Free The Past and Other Lies by Maggie Joel Page B

form a pool in the centre of the table. She was going to be Jennifer’s bridesmaid and Nick would soon be her brother-in-law. She liked Nick, he was a nice guy.
    ‘I have to go. Look, it’ll be fine,’ and that was another lie, though perhaps not as shameful as the first.

    ‘I believe Environmental Studies went with empire blue in the end,’ Dr McGill of Linguistics was saying. ‘Something to do with a charter from the sixteenth century,’ he added mysteriously.
    Charlotte jerked back to the present and caught Dave Glengorran’s eye across the table. Dave had arrived late and was now tearing strips from the agenda and screwing them up into balls, which he was flicking off the end of his pen in the general direction of the wastepaper bin. Dave had said nothing either.
    ‘Well, there’s always damask,’ he said suddenly and a little impatiently, as though this was a suggestion that ought to have been made some time ago. ‘After all, that’s what the University of London wears.’
    ‘ Damask! ’ spluttered Professor Kendall. ‘The Chancellor wears damask, a damask robe. You cannot graduate with a Bachelor of Arts in a damask robe.’ He took a deep breath and noisily reshuffled his papers. ‘We need to decide today! I must make the Sub-Committee’s recommendation to the Vice Chancellor this week.’
    ‘All we want is gold cord,’ insisted the younger of the three Media Studies lecturers, a girl with large spectacles and blue hair.
    ‘Or sulphur, at a pinch,’ said her colleague, the thin wiry boy with the goatee and skinny jeans.
    There was a tense silence.
    ‘Could we maybe look at a compromise here?’
    Everyone turned to look at Ashley. She had tossed aside her pencil and was sitting up with a sudden air of determination and Charlotte’s heart sank. That was it then. Dave had spoken, Ashley had spoken, and she was now the only one left who had remained silent.
    ‘You guys want cord and you people say they gotta have tassels. Okay then, have both. Have the gold cord. Have the goddamn gold tassels. And why don’t we all wear damask robes?’
    The room erupted.
    ‘Everyone, please , I must insist on one person speaking at a time!’ Professor Kendall paused to mop his brow with a handkerchief despite the near-zero room temperature. ‘It’s ten o’clock and many of us have a Finance Committee meeting to attend, so may I suggest that we adjourn and meet again next week and may I beg you all to come to some sort of agreement on this issue?’ He looked around the room.
    Charlotte sat on the edge of her seat, the words Isn’t this the most absurd waste of all our time...? perched right on the tip of her tongue, flexing and about to dive into the verbal arena. Her mouth felt dry and her palms started to sweat.
    ‘I believe this room is free for a meeting next Wednesday, Professor Kendall,’ she announced instead, the words bursting from her chest like a cough she had tried to suppress. ‘There was a memo—the Misconduct and Discipline Review Board meeting has been postponed...’
    She sat back again, her heart pounding. Well, at least she had said something. And then her mobile beeped and she was surprised to see she’d missed two calls from Aunt Caroline.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    AUGUST 1981
    J ENNIFER RETCHED VIOLENTLY, bringing up barely digested shepherd’s pie and peas. Perhaps, she realised afterwards, vomiting in such dramatic fashion actually helped things along a bit. At any rate, Mum came running up the stairs, buckets were proffered, glasses of water, soothing words, searching questions.
    And all the while she knew that Charlotte was sitting silent and unnoticed in the doorway to their bedroom as though she had no part in any of this. As if she were merely a bystander.
    When eventually Mum thought to look in on her, Charlotte had climbed into bed and was lying under the covers in a way that wordlessly and innocently proclaimed her own sickness. And she looked sick too, so still and pale and